


I Love Every Part Of You

by NightwingNinja17



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightwingNinja17/pseuds/NightwingNinja17
Summary: One stormy night was all it took to elicit nightmares in a certain pirate. And now Emma has to console him. But the nightmare isn't what she thought it was. It was all about his past and about what had happened on the fateful day he lost his hand. And now Emma has to pick up the broken pieces that is her husband, both in the emotion and now the physical sense.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Kudos: 15





	I Love Every Part Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! I hope that you enjoy this story! This is in response to another what if idea that I had in my head. This idea was about what if Killian had never fully opened up to Emma his thoughts on the stump of what was left of his hand?  
> The idea was sparked because I quickly realized that in OUAT that they hardly if ever showed Killian without his hook. Now I know that it has a lot to do with the fact that Colin, who played Hook, wasn't really missing his hand, but I would have loved to see that vulnerable side of Killian, mainly because we don't often get to see Killian so vulnerable.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this story! Please comment your thoughts! I would love to know what you think of it! :)

_Flash!_ Lightning flashed across my vision that night as a storm started to roll in.  
 _Boom!_ The loud clash of thunder that came quickly after was enough to send me sitting up in bed. The squall going on outside giving me little time to recuperate before it did it again.  
And at that moment, I realized that I was alone. The bed was unoccupied next to me. Killian wasn’t in his usual spot. I felt around for him at first, just to make sure that he wasn’t just in a different position on the bed than he normally was, but found him to be nowhere.  
I then listened for the sound of someone shuffling around in the bathroom and there was none.  
Strange. I thought to myself. I quickly removed the covers and found my robe before traipsing across the room and to the door.  
I listened for the sound of Killian’s heavy footsteps, but couldn’t hear none when a deluge of rain started pounding down on the roof above my head. I looked outside and almost jumped when I saw a flash of lightning and then heard a crash of thunder once again booming loud and flashing bright in my vision and ears. I longed to cuddle with Killian, to let his warmth comfort me, to keep me safe. But he was nowhere to be found.  
That was the part that I found strange.  
Usually storms helped Killian sleep. In our almost year of marriage, it was something that I wished I had. Even during the worst storm imaginable, he was typically sound asleep as if he had earplugs that worked tremendously well in his ears.  
However, this night must not have been one of those nights.  
I walked down the stairs searching for Killian and found it strange whenever I heard a crackling noise coming from the living room. I peered around the corner and tried not to scare him if he was there, but then sighed in relief when she found out.  
I found him sitting on the couch by a fire he must have started in the fireplace. He was watching as the lightning streamed across the sky outside the window. The fire behind him cast a warm glow on everything around him and illuminated his features. His stump of a hand was draped lazily across the back of the couch, his other hand carried a mug of something I only assumed was warm inside considering he also had a blanket draped around his shoulders.  
I decided that it was probably time that I made myself known.  
“Hey! Can’t sleep?” He looked up at me with a curious gaze, but once Killian must have realized that it was only me, he relaxed a bit and returned his gaze to the window.  
We both jumped when a particular loud thunderclap made itself known. He then turned his ocean blue eyes at me which seemed to be filled with sadness. I sat down on the floor next to the couch and gently took his good hand in mine, careful not to jostle the cup in his hand. I watched as he just stared at my hand as if it was a foreign object.  
“Hey! Are you okay?”  
His blue eyes looked to mine and he just looked like there was a battle going on for his emotional control. He turned away for a second and just looked back out the window as another lightning bolt streaked across the sky. The low rumble of thunder just echoed in the empty room filling it up with the small vibrations that only thunder could give.  
He then shrugged. This was so unlike Killian. Usually he was very open about what he was feeling, what he was struggling with. But tonight he made an exception.  
“Honey,” I ran my hand up his arm closest to me to try and get his attention again, “You know you can tell me anything right?”  
He nodded. His gaze still turned to the mess of weather outside the window. I watched as he seemed to open and close his mouth as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. He then moved his stump to his face like he would with his fist when he was lost in thought. I had to stifle a laugh when the sleeve of his black sweater flopped over the top of it like the sweater was too big for him.  
“Killian,” I watched his eyes once again turn to mine. It looked like he was about to cry this time. I surmised that was the reason he didn’t want to speak. He feared the emotions would probably come out if he did, “Talk to me.”  
He closed his eyes this time and then took a deep breath. He rested his chin on his stump once again and looked outside.  
“I.....I had a nightmare.” The words were so startling to hear. Killian hardly ever had nightmares. Or at least he hadn’t had many since his return from the Underworld. He was usually very private. Which was probably why he didn’t want to talk. Or it was probably why it was taking him a while to talk.  
“A nightmare about what?” His vacant look turned to me and tried not to look confused. He then quickly adjust himself to where the cup he had been holding was safely in his lap, and then he used his good arm to slowly roll up the sleeve on his stump arm. Once it was exposed, he gently tapped the scarred part.  
I looked at it in fascination. This was the first time he had willingly showed it to me. I stared at the blemished skin. It wasn’t often that he would bring up this particular injury and it saddened me that it burdened him so much to think about it. I smiled sadly at him to let him know that it didn’t bother me to look at it.  
“I dreamed about when I lost it, but I didn’t survive. Or came really close to death. I haven’t been able to determine which one I saw.” He heaved in some air before he continued, “I dreamed that The Dark One didn’t heal me like he did and the wound just bled. Nothing I or the doctors charged with helping me stopped it. And I....”  
I just continued to run my hand up and down his arm to comfort him, to let him know I was there for him. I just sat there waiting patiently for him to continue.  
“Later on, The Dark One returned and taunted me. He said that he could end my life if I wanted him to, and boy did I want him to. I just remember the thoughts I had over losing Milah. And then my thoughts turned to you. Somehow he could sense that I was thinking of the future and how he wouldn’t let me have the future that I wanted. How he would track me down to the ends of the earth. How he would use this injury to keep constant tabs on me. He even told me that I would never be able to escape him. Then he kept chopping my hand off and replacing it over and over and over again. He didn’t stop until I had passed out from the pain.”  
“Sounds like the roles were reversed.” I was reminded of when I first met him, how he wouldn’t let his lust for revenge be deterred. Now it sounded like the dream he had was the complete opposite.  
He just nodded his head in response.  
“He kept telling me that the scars on my wrist, or really what was left of my wrist, would be a constant reminder of what I had done and how I should be ashamed and how he would use this to track me down.” He subconsciously began to run his hand down his scars, down his wrist, “I just hate it.”  
“Hey! Look at me.” I watched as Killian hesitantly turned his eyes to me. Once I was sure I had his attention, I smiled warmly, “Don’t let this nightmare change what you think about yourself!”  
“How?” His words sounded like a child who had just been scolded, “Emma, you know the story! I’ve tried for many years to put the emotional pain around this injury behind me and all of a sudden, my dream uses it against me,” He then held out his wrist to emphasize that fact, “I also have no way of hiding this, of making me forget that this ever happed. It...It’s just....I hate this part of me.”  
I instinctively reached out to grab his left wrist, but he flinched away. He then carefully pulled the sleeve back over it to hide the memories that he had there. He then carefully returned it to the back of the couch and his vision to the thunderstorm outside. I tried not to look disappointed, but I felt hurt when he wouldn’t let me help him in this manner. I looked down at my lap and tried my best to carefully construct my next sentence before I spoke it.  
“Killian?” He didn’t look at me at first, he just rested his chin on the stump of his arm like he would a closed fist, “Killian please look at me.”  
He hesitated for a few moments more and then he looked back at me.  
“I want to help you work through this, but you have to let me. You have to let this wall crumble.” I reached out for his left arm again. I wanted him to be able to make the first move here, “I really want to see your scars.”  
Killian just sat there and looked at me. His eyes lingered between disbelief and not being sure of letting me see what was underneath the sleeve. I smiled slightly and tried to put as much of a genuine expression on my face as I could. I really wanted to help him, to coax him out of this self hate he was experiencing right now. And if that meant opening up about the one thing that constantly haunted him, I would use it to my advantage.  
After a few more moments of staring into each others’ eyes, he started to move. He first put the mug in his lap on the side table and then adjusted his position to where he sat cross legged facing me. He then looked down at his sleeved arm, the one that didn’t have a hand protruding from the bottom of it and just rested it in his lap within my reach.  
I gently reached out again for Killian’s bad arm. I kept my eyes on his face to make sure that I wasn’t overstepping my boundaries with my movements. Once I was sure he wouldn’t pull away again, I gently reached inside and with my own left hand and pulled it a bit closer to me. I then used my right hand to roll up Killian’s sleeve to reveal the scarred stump underneath.  
I stared at it for a few seconds, taking in the sights. It took me a second to wrap my head around what I was seeing. I had grown so used to seeing his hook there, that seeing bare skin was a shock.  
What was more of a surprise was seeing Killian’s scars was what else laid underneath the sleeve and the brace he always wore.   
The obvious one covered the length of his stump and was probably where the surgeons and doctors helped to suture the skin back into place. There were some small burns where I assumed his wound had been cauterized. What was a real shock to see were the small tendrils of pale, raised skin that seemed to spiderweb away in various lengths from the main mark. I fingered them gently and quickly turned my eyes to Killian. I made sure this was okay and once again he didn’t protest.  
“Those scars...” he sighed a bit before he continued, “Those scars were the marks of torture. After I lost my hand to the crocodile, many of my enemies thought it was advantageous of them to use this injury as a way to get me to talk, when the caught me. It often ended with me defeating them and having to go right back to the doctors who healed me the first time. It was awful. I had to relive the memories over and over again of losing my hand, losing Milah.”  
“I...I don’t know what to say, Killian. This is...”  
“Awful? Hideous? You don’t have to say it, Swan. I already know all that.”  
“No! I was going to say...” I had to choose my words carefully. He partially tore down a wall for me and I was to be damned if I was the cause of him putting it back up again, “This...this is apart of you. No matter how...difficult the stories surrounding it may be, it doesn’t change who you are and what this makes you, you. This makes you the man I fell in love with.”  
“But it is a direct result of my failures to protect the ones I love. This is a constant reminder of how I failed, how Rumplestiltskin of all people bested me. If my nightmare has anything of truth to glean from it, it was that he has won. Even back then, he won.”  
“Has he actually killed you?” Emma was quick to bat down those words. She waited and watched Killian’s jaw twitch. He often did that when he was angry, lost or confused and now was no exception. After a few tense moments, he sighed and shook his head, “Rumplestiltskin has had so many chances to prove that he was the superior man. He could have killed you back then, and he has tried so many times to do the same since. If he was as powerful as everyone says he is, he should have succeeded.”  
I watched and let the words linger in the air before I continued.  
“But, like you’ve told me countless times is that you are a survivor.” Killian looked unconvinced. I then gently placed his stump on the palm of my hand and pushed it into his line of sight, “This is a reminder of that. It’s not every day you survive an amputation done in a time where morphine and modern medicine didn’t exist.”  
Killian looked like he was one the verge of tears as he stared at the remains of his hand. I could see the literal cogs in his head turning. He just stared at his arm and all the scars. He then smirked and turned his blue eyes to mine.  
“I did say that didn’t I.” He let out an emotionally charged chuckle.  
“Yes you did,” I smiled as I gently put his arm in his lap and pulled his good hand into mine, “And just like you made sure to remind me of that constantly, I vow to make sure that I do the same thing for you. Each of the scars, though the memories may be tough, are a reminder of that. I vow to use these scars to remind you how you survived some of the worst things imaginable. You are strong Killian, and this should be a reminder of that. Not of your failings, not of the words others said about you, but your memories should be filled with the fact that you survived every encounter.”  
I ran my fingers across his knuckles and just waited for him to relax before pulling my hand away. I then sat up on my knees and leaned forward and planted a meaningful kiss on his lips. We sat there for a while before a rather intrusive thunderclap interrupted our musings. We both looked outside briefly before turning to each other and laughing.  
I then saw a lone tear make a path down his face and was quick to wipe it away.  
“I love you Killian Jones.” I pulled his stump closer to me and kissed it, “I love every part of you and don’t you forget it.”  
Killian smiled and let out another breathy chuckle. I then moved to his side on the couch that wasn’t leaning against the armrest and just bent into his shoulder. I then pulled his stump arm into my lap and held it almost like I would if he had fingers. Except the only thing that I did differently was that I ran my fingers up and down his textured skin and over the scars that littered it.  
“Now can we go back to sleep?” I searched his eyes when he looked my way.  
“Sure thing, love.” He was already in the process of yawning when I suggested that. Killian then shifted to where his right side of his body was resting against the armrest, his head was on his fist and his legs were tucked around the front side of me comfortingly. I adjusted too and leaned up against his side still holding onto the stump of his arm. I let my fingers glide across his scarred skin, to let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him.  
I just sat there and just kept my eyes on the scars. I leaned my head against his shoulder and just listened to his breathing. It wasn’t until I looked up again and heard soft snores that I realized he had fallen back asleep. Apparently the conversation took more of a toll on Killian than I had previously thought.  
I quickly stood up and grabbed a blanket draped across the back of the couch. I then draped across the lean muscled frame that made up my husband. He moved to where he was using the armrest more as a pillow than an actual armrest. I sat back down in the vacant spot behind his knees and began to brush my fingers through his hair. Killian let out a content sigh and was soon sound asleep.  
I smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek and just leaned against him once more. I just listened to Killian’s breath and heartbeat, I let it lull me to a quiet contentment. Although he physically wasn’t whole, he was still whole. I felt full knowing that he cared enough to share this deep dark secret. Killian didn’t have to, but he did and that was all that mattered to me.  
I was going to make sure that he knew that. He wasn’t going to run me away with self hate comments. I was there for him no matter what.  
And with that, I fell asleep, soundly against his mangled arm. We would laugh at this someday, but in the meantime, I vowed to show every part of him that I cared.  
Because I loved every part of him mangled mess and all.


End file.
